


Enough

by Anonymous



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Katsuki Yuuri, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 16:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19749061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Yuuri has been hiding part of his identity from Victor . . . until he can't anymore.





	Enough

**Author's Note:**

> I know bisexual!Yuuri might not be everyone's cup of tea, but I identify with him a lot and this is a pretty self indulgent fic. Reading fics on this topic from others has always been very comforting to me; it makes me feel like I'm not alone, and many of them have helped me become more comfortable in my own identity. I'd love it if this helped someone else, too. If nothing else, it felt good to write it.

Yuuri has grown accustomed to the feeling of not being enough. 

He is a celebrity in his hometown and has several medals under his belt, but due to his inconsistent performance and reserved nature, has never truly felt like he is a part of the skating community. 

He’s surrounded by support from his family, from Yukko, from Pichit . . . but his anxiety makes it difficult for him to recognize and accept it, which leads to him feeling even more unworthy. 

He puts on weight, often because of that same anxiety, and it lingers to some extent no matter how hard he trains, the skater physique that he should have hanging ever outside of his grasp.

So when he finally accepts the fact that he is bisexual, though it is a relief to come to terms with that part of himself, it also feels like some kind of cosmic joke. He’d fought recognizing it for so long. After all, no one seemed to want anything to do with him in that way, so did it matter how he identified, or if he did at all? I’m nothing, he’d told himself on his darkest days. He still has never told his family, unsure how they would react, and is out to none but a few of his closest confidants. He doubts he’s straight enough to make most people in his very traditional hometown comfortable, but is also not gay enough to trust that he’ll be accepted in that way either.

And then came Victor. Victor, who is without question the nucleus of the skating community. Followed by vocal supporters around the world that fill the rink at every competition--Yuuri having been among them for much of his life. Victor, with his sharp jawline and muscled physique that leaves Yuuri’s mouth dry and knees trembling on a daily basis.

Victor exudes nothing but confidence in his identity. He has been an out gay man for most of his career and has never shyed away from being a proud and vocal member of that community.

And beside him, who is Yuuri?

* - * - *

“Yuuuuri!” Victor calls sweetly when the front door of their apartment clicks closed. “Did you see the announcement? There will be a parade in St. Petersburg for Pride next week! The street in front of the rink will be closed for the day, so Yakov is cancelling practice. We can go! Our first Pride together!” 

Yuuri’s heart warms when he sees Victor’s heart-shaped smile appear. To march with Victor. To stand arm in arm with him in front of the whole city. A few years ago he wouldn’t have even dared to dream it.

“And look,” Victor continues, “I got us flags to wear!” He pulls two rainbow striped swaths of fabric up from the side of the couch, waving them in an arc and laughing. “We can wear them on our shoulders, maybe. Actually . . .” his eyes light up, “. . . you could wear your medal and we could pin the flag to it like a cape! Then everyone will see yet another reason why I am so proud of my Yuuri!”

Victor’s enthusiasm is infectious and Yuuri laughs with him despite the doubt and guilt pulling at his heart. Victor is so proud of him, of them, wants to literally parade that pride out for all to see. And yet Yuuri can’t summon that same feeling for his own self, isn’t giving Victor the honesty he deserves. He’s not what Victor thinks he is. He feels his hands shake. Victor deserves to know, even if it means that all of this, which for the past year has felt like some unbelievable dream, has to end.

“Victor. I . . . before we do this, there’s something you should know. And maybe you’ll hate me for it.” His fists clench at his sides, fingers sliding against his palms with sweat. His eyes find a neutral spot on the floor to settle on, otherwise he knows he’ll never get all of this out.

On the couch, Victor freezes for a moment before beginning to rise and reach out for his fiancé. “Zolotse, how could you think I would ev--”. 

“I’m not gay. I’m bisexual. I’m sorry.” His throat feels tight with emotion and he feels tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He sniffs grotesquely, willing himself to hold it in. Once the words start, he can’t seem to stop. They tear their way through his swollen throat. “I’ve known for a few years, before I ever met you in person. Actually, seeing you skate and realizing that what I was feeling went beyond just fan worship helped me figure a lot of things out, so thanks, I guess?” Tears threaten again and he scrubs his shirt sleeve ruthlessly across his eyes, heedless of the way he’s smearing the lenses of his glasses. “I’m not who you thought I was and I wasn’t being honest with you and I’m sorry. I’m so--”. 

The feeling of a finger under his chin stops him up short. He gives in to the gentle press and slowly lifts his head up, as always unable to resist getting caught in Victor’s blue eyes, helpless to the pull they have on him. He steels himself to find anger or disappointment in those depths, but instead finds nothing but softness. And love. So much love.

“Yuroska. There is no part of you that I could hate,” he says softly, curving his hand to caress Yuuri’s cheek. “Every piece of you that you are willing to show to me is a gift, and without them you would not be my beautiful Yuuri that I love.” 

His breath hiccups in his chest and he unconsciously tilts his head to settle it more fully into his fiancé’s embrace. “You . . . this is ok? I know I’ll never be--”.

“You are mine. I am yours. That is more than enough.”

* - * - *

Victor has been excitedly rallying their friends from the rink all week to march together to represent the skating community. Yuuri has stopped him short of commissioning a float, but matching t-shirts with the rink’s logo done in a rainbow font had appeared in everyone’s locker at the conclusion of practice the night before.

When the morning of the parade dawns, Yuuri carefully lays out his clothes before getting in the shower. When he returns to get dressed, he is annoyed to find that the flag cape had disappeared.

“Where did you drag it off to, Makka?” he grumbles as he pulls on his clothes (too-tight jeans that Victor likes way too much and the rink logo shirt - a little understated for a parade, but it’s plenty showy by his own standards). Makka herself is sporting a rainbow tie-dyed bandana and Yuuri knows that there will be a matching leash waiting when it’s time to leave the apartment. 

He scrutinizes his reflection in the mirror, pushing at his glasses and fiddling with his hair until he can at least get it out of his eyes. Maybe he should have used the gel he puts in it for performances. Oh well.

“Victor,” he whines as he walks toward the living room, “I think Makka has made off with my flag. Have you--oof!”

He’s tackled behind by strong arms, feeling the tickle of soft hair at his ear as Victor leans in to whisper, “I borrowed it for a moment. It needed a few modifications.” 

The weight of the silver medal settles around his neck. He’s never lost the thrill it gives him to see it resting against his chest, especially when his fiancé is the one who places it there. When his eyes move past the ribbon to the “cape” itself, the air leaves his lungs in a rush. 

“Now you are perfect, my Yuuri.”

* - * - *

As usual, Victor can’t help taking dozens (if not hundreds) of photos during the parade. When Yuuri takes on the task of sorting through them later (“Did you really need a photo of Makka next to every single dog we saw, Victor?” “They’re her friends!”), he pauses on one particular selfie that was taken in the midst of the event. In it, Victor’s face is in profile, caught in the act of planting a soft kiss on Yuuri’s check. Yuuri’s grin is huge, eyes squeezed shut with the force of his joy. The wind has caught them at just the right moment and his “cape” billows out beside him, pink, purple, and blue stripes filling what remains of the frame. He favorites it, his quiet signal to Victor that it is one of the photos that he has deemed, as Pichit would say “worthy of the ‘gram”, and as expected, a post appears that evening.

**v-nikiforov** He makes me brave. #myhero #stpetersburgpride2017

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3 
> 
> If you feel like Yuuri and I do sometimes, remember: "You are enough. You are so enough. It's unbelievable how enough you are."


End file.
